


paint

by kaorusawas



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Body Paint, Drabble, Fluff, Gen, Kinda, M/M, Painting, have fun, i have no explanation for this, its. kinda iwaoi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-24
Updated: 2020-03-24
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:33:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23288581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaorusawas/pseuds/kaorusawas
Summary: Painting has always been a therapy.
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru
Kudos: 40





	paint

Painting has always been a form of therapy for Tōru. It’s nothing special, he’s not very good at it, but there’s always just been _something_ about it that just feels so relieving, like it just lifts a weight off his shoulders. It’s freeing, in a way, an outlet for emotions that he can’t really voice otherwise. It all comes out of the canvas easily in splatters of colors that don’t make sense to anyone but himself, and he kind of prefers it that way. It feels like his own little secret.

It’s easy, however, to follow the general path of his journey through life if you look at his paintings. The paintings first started in his first year of junior high, and for the most part, they were bright, with yellows and pinks and other bright, happy colors splattered across stretched canvas. They bleed into the first part of his second year of junior high, but they give way to darker paintings shortly after, when he injured his knee and got himself pulled from all volleyball related activities until it heals fully. The bright, cheery colors are replaced by dark ones, reds, blacks, dark, dark blues as he vents and vents and _vents_ his emotions on canvas. 

That’s _if_ you can get a look at them. The paintings aren’t something Tōru shows off. They’re private, for no one’s eyes but his own. 

And Hajime, of course, who’s always been there for him, who was actually the first one to introduce him to this form of expression. He sees them all, every single one of them, just as he was able to see the Tōru who painted them.

* * *

Hajime shivers under the cold press of the paint soaked brush, pulling a giddy little, honest-to-god _giggle_ from the man above him and earns a gentle press of lips to the back of his neck for his troubles. He’s not really quite sure how this became a regular thing, Tōru painting across Hajime’s skin, but at some point, it had forced its way into their regular routines and had fit there quite snugly. At least once a week, Tōru manages to get Hajime laying flat on his stomach, straddling his thighs as he moves his brushes across the wide expanse of his back. It tickles more than Hajime would like to admit, and it’s cold and hard to stay still underneath the strange feeling.

“Iwa-chan, you have to stay _still_ , or else I’m gonna mess up,” Tōru says, pure happiness mixed with other bright, cheerful emotions coloring his voice, those same emotions mirrored on Hajime’s back. He only receives a huff in return, but it’s good enough of a reply for him to continue on with his latest painting. There’s splotches of color everywhere, long, powerful strokes mimicking the power of Hajime’s strikes in a variety of colors. The bright aqua green of their uniforms, the soft red of the scoldings Tōru receives often from the wing spiker, the pure, unmixed yellow of happy, happy memories shared between only them.

It’s a mishmash of colors, really, when you get down to the bare bits of it, but the emotions poured into every single brush stroke are tangible to those who know exactly what they are meant to represent.


End file.
